


Revenge

by orphan_account



Series: Comfort [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Beard shaving, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 18:25:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin, Fili and Kili torture and disgrace the rogue dwarf who attacked Bilbo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revenge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shizukesa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shizukesa/gifts).



> Unbeta'd, so any errors are obviously my own. 
> 
> The torture scene was suggested by Shizukesa, who I wrote this for. Hopefully it's written well enough, I'm not quite used to writing depictions of violence.
> 
> Enjoy!

The unnatural sound of fingers being broken filled the air, and Thorin inhaled, smelling sweat and blood. Before him, chained to the ground in the cell was the dwarf he had been searching adamantly for, and now that he had him, he wasn’t going to let him go so easily.

“Where were you two nights ago?” he repeated, voice calm. Beside him stood Fili, who was casually running whetstone over his hunting knife, and leaning against the wall was Kili, watching the rogue dwarf with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t remember!” the dwarf, Uüfin, insisted, his eyes wide. Blood had mixed with sweat and was running down his forehead, his arms, his chest. Thorin had stood and watched while Fili had carved their family name in runes onto his chest and then when Kili buried an arrow into his shoulder.

“You lie.”

“I speak no lie.”

“You lie.” Thorin reiterated, reaching for another finger and twisting it backwards. The resulting snap was loud, but not as loud as the cry of pain it elicited from its owner. “ _Where_. _Were_. _You_?”

“I don’t remember!” he repeated.

“What _do_ you remember?” snarled Fili.

“I... I went to the inn, had a few drinks, and all that’s it, that’s all I remember. The rest is black, and I woke up with blood on my shirt. I thought I’d gotten into a fist fight or something.”

“You’re lying.”

“I swear to you on the graves of my forefathers, I do not lie.”

Thorin raised his fist, connecting it to Uüfin’s face with a satisfying crunch, revelling in the cry of pain. “Do not play games with me; I see the truth in your eyes. You came out of the inn in your drunken stupor and attacked an innocent person.”

“I did no such thing-”

Thorin pushed his fingers into the arrow wound on the other's shoulder, pressing his thumb inside it roughly. The dwarf gritted his teeth, a barely repressed sob stuck in his throat.

“Say it,” he ordered.

“I will not,” the other growled out.

“Say it,” Kili moved from the wall and knelt beside the him, grabbing him by the hair. “Admit it.”

“ _Say it_ ,” Thorin dug his fingers into the wound deeper still. “Say the words out loud!”

“Fine,” Uüfin spat finally, roaring in pain, “I did attack someone, some short whelp that hadn’t even grown into his beard yet. But I don’t see what the problem is; who I want to bed is my business. And my business is _my_ business, not yours, King.”

Kili sneered, moving to his feet and looking at his uncle. Thorin simply nodded.

“It becomes our business when you attack the King’s Consort, you pathetic, brainless, orc-faced warg shagger,” Kili hissed.

His eyes widened. “C-Consort?”

“That’s right,” Fili spoke now from over Thorin’s shoulder. “That ‘short whelp’ that ‘hasn’t grown into his beard yet’ was Consort to King under the Mountain, and you will suffer the consequences of your incredibly foolish actions.”

“Fili, hand me your hunting knife,” Thorin held his hand out and curled his fingers around the heavy metal that was placed there before grabbing the dwarf’s chin with his spare hand. “I disgrace you, Uüfin, son of Uürin, and your family.” He grabbed a fistful of the dwarf’s beard roughly, ignoring the struggles and pleas and cries of the filth before him.

He cut it off in one fowl swipe, letting the hair drop to the floor. “I made a promise not to injure you too terribly; Uüfin, but I made no such promises about your reputation. You are banished under pain of death to the outskirts of Erebor, if you dare to break this banishment for any reason other than to come to and from the mines you work at, you will be dragged by your dwindling beard by the guards to me. Is that understood?”

Uüfin nodded frantically, tears lining his eyes.

“Shave the rest of it, Kili,” Thorintold his sister-son, handing the knife back. “I want to see his face smoother than a polished gem before we release him.” He pushed away from the dwarf now and moved towards the door. “I will be in my quarters with my Consort if my presence is needed.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

 

 


End file.
